Trapped
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Oneshot written in 2009. Tim and Gibbs are trapped in a collapsed building. Tim is injured and delirious. Not much plot. Just an excuse to have some conversations.


**A/N:** It was pointed out to me that I've never posted this story on this site. I don't know how I missed it in my last survey of my old oneshots, but I did. So I wrote this in 2009. It's just a simple oneshot with a bit of a plot but not much of one. :)

**Disclaimer:** As usual...not mine and I'm not making money. None at all at the moment, in fact.

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><p><strong>Trapped<strong>  
>by Enthusiastic Fish<p>

There was a soft groan from the body in the center of the room. Gibbs looked worriedly over his shoulder, pausing in his attempt to dig them out of this basement. An earthquake. How unlucky could they get? The shaking had stopped at least. He wasn't sure whether that meant it was over or whether there would be more aftershocks, but he was taking advantage of the relative silence, of the calm, to try and shift some of the rubble away from the place he was fairly certain hid a way out.

"Dad?" The voice was slurred and almost unintelligible.

Gibbs looked back and met a pair of fever-bright eyes. He sighed. This was the third time Tim had awakened and thought he was someone else.

"No, McGee. It's Gibbs, your boss," he said in resignation.

"I'm so cold."

"You have a fever."

Tim looked at him without comprehension. "No, I'm _cold_."

"Yes, McGee. You have a fever and you're lying on a cement floor." Gibbs looked at Tim again. "Go back to sleep. It's not time to go yet."

"You won't let me be late?" he asked.

"No. Of course, I won't."

"This test is really important, Dad."

"I know, McGee. So go to sleep. Otherwise, you won't be ready for it."

Tim's eyelids drooped and he was out again. It couldn't actually be called _sleep_. It was more like another bout of unconsciousness. Gibbs had done the best he could, but with only one moth-eaten blanket to keep off the cold of the cement floor, there wasn't much more he could do to make Tim comfortable beyond getting him out of there. Once again, Gibbs cursed himself for making Tim be there in the first place. When they had flown in two days ago, Tim had already been under the weather but had sucked it up in order to do his job. This morning, however, he had been pale and sickly when they had met up in the hotel lobby. Tim had tried to beg off going to the crime scene.

"_Boss, I really don't feel very well."_

"_I don't care if you're dying, McGee. We have a job to do. Tony and Ziva are doing interviews. We need to process the scene."_

So Tim had come. The earthquake had taken them completely by surprise. At the first shaking, Gibbs had rushed them to the basement where there were, thankfully, solid foundations. When the roof collapsed, they had been almost down the stairs. They'd both been knocked down by falling debris, but the real damage had been done when the whole second floor had caved in, blocking their exit and burying Tim in rubble. Now, he had a high fever from whatever illness he'd contracted before _and_ severe lacerations on his legs and his back. Taken separately, neither was necessarily life-threatening, but taken together along with the fact that medical help was not forthcoming, it could be dangerous.

Tim moaned again as he shifted position. Gibbs turned back to him again; then, he walked over to examine his agent. A hand on Tim's forehead confirmed the continuing fever, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Tim shivered and opened his eyes again.

"Boss?"

Well, that was an improvement at least.

"Yes, McGee."

"What happened?"

"An earthquake."

"Wow...really?" Tim looked vaguely interested. "Why are we down here?"

"Because of the earthquake."

"Yes...and–?" Tim asked, looking around the basement.

"Go back to sleep, McGee."

"Okay." Tim's eyes closed promptly. Gibbs sighed and went back to the rubble. It might be a hopeless cause, but he'd always believed in hopeless causes. He worked with it for another hour before Tim woke up again.

"No!" Tim shouted and sat up.

"No, what, McGee?"

"No, sir!" Tim shouted and saluted.

"You don't have to 'sir' me, McGee."

Tim's were wild and he was definitely not seeing Gibbs. "Yes, sir! No, sir! Won't tell a soul, sir!"

"Tell a soul, what, McGee?"

Tim's back was ramrod straight. "I didn't see a thing!" He looked away from Gibbs and to one of the empty corners. "Oh, there's...there's no...you don't have to do that. I _promise_! I won't tell!"

Gibbs grabbed Tim and shook him. "Tell what, McGee?"

Tim looked at him. "I didn't see anything. I promise. I never saw anyone. Please, don't hurt me again!"

_Again?_ "I won't, McGee. It's Gibbs, your boss."

Tim's eyes closed again and he was out. Gibbs took off his own jacket, wrapped it around his shivering agent and eased Tim back down onto the blanket.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, McGee. That's a promise," Gibbs said firmly. He went back to the rubble, but only was able to work at it for a few minutes when the first aftershock hit. The shaking was nearly as bad as the first one and Gibbs hurried to Tim to protect him from any more falling debris. To his relief, the ceiling held. When it stopped, he looked at Tim who had not awakened and he wondered what it was that he had _not_ seen...and _who_ he had not seen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dad...I'm sorry," Tim said, the next he woke up.

"I'm not your dad, McGee."

"I know I shouldn't have fought back."

Curious, in spite of himself, Gibbs asked, "Fought back?"

"No, it doesn't hurt." Tim was obviously also filling in both sides of the conversation.

"What doesn't hurt?"

"I promise; it's just a sprain. They only twisted it a little bit," Tim said, cradling his arm.

"Who?"

Tim seemed to hear him this time and his face twisted in anger. "The stupid jocks. Why don't they just leave me alone?"

"They never learn, McGee."

"I'm six feet. I don't fit in the lockers anymore."

"No, that you don't."

Tears filled Tim's eyes and he shivered. "If I'm such a wuss, why do they have to come at me four at a time?"

"Because you're not a wuss."

Tim just shivered again and closed his eyes.

"Well, McGee, at least the conversations aren't boring," Gibbs said and patted him gently on the shoulder.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next time Tim woke up was not quite so nice.

"Why am I so cold?" Tim asked, his eyes clear for once, but his pain much more acute. He spoke through clenched teeth but his voice was less slurred.

Gibbs was beside him in an instant. "You have a fever, McGee. You've been injured and that probably isn't helping."

"Where are we, Boss?"

"In the basement of our crime scene."

Tim closed his eyes and tried to think. "There was...an earthquake?"

"Yeah."

"I got caught in...the ceiling? Or something?"

"Basically."

"Are they getting us out?"

"I don't know."

Tim nodded and let out a shaky breath. "How bad...how bad am I?"

"Pretty bad, McGee."

"Am I going to die?" he asked, sounding pitifully afraid.

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Do you?"

Gibbs looked at Tim, almost wishing for the delirium to return. "Not much, I'll admit."

Tim nodded and was obviously trying to hold back tears.

Gibbs gripped his shoulder. "You're not gonna die, McGee. Don't for a second think that you are, okay?"

"Okay, Boss."

"Good."

"I'm tired."

"Then, go back to sleep."

"Okay, Boss." Tim obediently closed his eyes again, but it took him longer to return to his fevered stated this time. Gibbs sat next to him until his breathing evened out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dad, I can't do this! It's pointless. Why did I even try?" Tim demanded, slurring his words again.

"Not your dad, McGee," Gibbs sighed.

"I'm so stupid."

"That you are _definitely_ not."

"No, I can't tell anyone."

Gibbs looked back at Tim whose eyes were darting back and forth, but probably weren't seeing much. His shaking was much more pronounced.

"Dad...I shouldn't even have told _you_. I could get into such big trouble over this. I don't have any proof."

"Proof of what?"

"I can't do anything without proof! No one would believe me. This kind of thing isn't supposed to happen anymore."

"What, McGee?"

Still supplying the other side of the conversation in his head, Tim didn't even glance at Gibbs as he continued to talk. "Talk to NCIS? Right, Dad. Who would I tell? That Agent DiNozzo who makes me call him 'sir'? He's just like them...okay, no he's not. He's not that bad."

"McGee, what are you talking about?" If this was a real event Tim was reliving, Gibbs knew he was narrowing in on the time frame, but what the event actually was remained a mystery.

"And Agent Gibbs? I might as well quit as tell him! No, the x-rays wouldn't help. No, the medical chart wouldn't either. He'd just say that I couldn't cut it."

"I wouldn't have done that, McGee," Gibbs said, quietly. "Whatever it was, I wouldn't have done that. Why not tell your immediate superior?"

Tim seemed to be quoting someone as he started talking again. "'Hazing is a natural part of life for any newbie. Get used it, McGee...especially you.'"

That probably took care of the immediate superior. Then, Tim's eyes rolled back in his head and he began to seize. Gibbs was back with him immediately.

"Come on, McGee. Pull through." He knew there was little he could do to stop a seizure. He just had to make sure Tim didn't hurt himself. In moments, the seizure was over and Tim was limp and unconscious once more. "Oh, McGee. I'm sorry." Gibbs himself was extremely tired. He looked at the pile of rubble with annoyance, as if it had fallen in on purpose, with malicious intent, and then he sighed and settled down next to Tim to get some sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Tim cried out, waking Gibbs with his panic. "No, please! No...no _sir_!

Gibbs sat up, wincing at the sudden movement. Tim was no longer next to him. Somehow, he'd managed to pull himself over to the wall. He was looking up in terror.

"McGee, what is it? What's going on?"

"No...I'm NCIS! Computers! I'm just a geek! I'm just a geek!" Tim didn't hear Gibbs.

"McGee!" Gibbs grabbed Tim who suddenly latched onto Gibbs and held on for dear life.

"Yes, I can swim! Please, don't take my clothes!" he shouted.

_Hazing? At Norfolk?_ Gibbs thought as Tim continued to hold onto him. _But why McGee?_

"Please...please, at least, let me keep my boxers...sir..."

Gibbs shook his head and held Tim as he trembled, both from the fear of the memory and from the fever.

"It's okay, McGee. It's over. Long over. Relax."

Tim was silent for a few minutes and Gibbs thought he was out again...but then he started to speak.

"I know we don't give in to bullies, Dad...but I can't...I can't do it," Tim said, his voice shaking as much as his body. "I don't have anyone to tell. I don't have anyone who would believe me."

"It's okay, McGee. Just go back to sleep."

"No...I'm okay, Dad," Tim mumbled. "Don't tell Mom. She doesn't need to know..." Tim sagged limply and Gibbs carried him back to the blanket and eased him down once more. He looked him over. Tim's skin had a gray tinge to it...and it wasn't just from the dust, although that probably wasn't helping. He wondered why it was that, of all the things Tim could dredge up in the midst of a serious fever, he was reliving what sounded like a hazing incident.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"No...Dad...don't come."

"Not your dad, McGee."

Suddenly, even slurred and shaking, Tim's voice took on a sarcastic edge that he usually only employed when speaking to Tony. "Right, Dad. It's not like you could actually _do_ anything. You never could...just always...me to...not back down..." Then, Tim's voice switched again to the desperate fear. "No...please, don't drop me. Please, it's so far..."

Gibbs moved another chunk of cement and was finally rewarded with...not a shaft of sunlight, but moonlight.

"All right, McGee. Here we go."

"I can't make it...I can't make...it..."

Gibbs shifted another slab, carefully widening the hole. "You can make it, McGee. You already did."

"It's too far..." Tim's eyes closed again.

Gibbs hurried. Tim was going downhill fairly quickly. He wasn't sure why no one was looking for them, but it had been a long time and Tim needed to get out.

"A little bit more, McGee, and we'll be out." True to his word, only a few minutes later, Gibbs had the hole wide enough to get out of the collapsed building. "Okay, McGee, time to go."

No response from the unconscious man on the floor.

Although he hadn't really expected one, Gibbs _wanted_ a response. Getting Tim out would be hard enough with him conscious. Unconscious would _really _be a pain. He thought about it. Best way to get Tim moving?

"Tim, you're going to be late for your test!"

As he had hoped, Tim's eyes flew open and he started trying to sit up. "Oh, no! I can't be late!" His breathing was too labored, and he seemed too weak to actually sit up, but he made the effort.

"It's okay, Tim. I'll help."

Without the slightest bit of embarrassment, Tim flung an arm around Gibbs. "Dad, if I miss this test, I'll _fail_!"

Gibbs smiled. "Well, then, we'd better get you there, hadn't we, Tim."

"Why am I so cold, Dad?"

"Just hold onto me, McG–Tim." Gibbs wasn't sure whether or not Tim was really listening to him, but just in case...

Tim didn't answer other than to sling his other arm around Gibbs and hang on tightly. Gibbs dragged him over as Tim began mumbling various formulae to himself. It meant nothing to Gibbs.

"Okay, now, Tim, I'm going to need you to do some work yourself."

"I can't be late..."

"You will be if you don't climb out of this hole."

For whatever reason, the fact that Tim had to climb out of a hole to get to his test mattered not at all. He simply nodded and began to weakly pull himself out.

"Faster, McGee!"

There was a faint, "Yes, Boss!" and Gibbs grinned and then shoved. Tim went out and Gibbs followed quickly after.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"How you feeling, Probie?" Tony asked, pretending like it was a simple unemotional question.

"Well...let's see, Tony," Tim said, softly. He was still fairly weak, but he definitely had his mind back. "...considering I'm just getting over a serious bout of the flu, have stitches over most of my legs and was delirious for at least a day..."

"...try three," Gibbs said.

"...okay, three...I'm feeling great."

"Good."

Tim laughed and then yawned. "Sorry, guys. I think visiting hours are over...unless you want to watch me sleep...some more." He grinned sleepily.

"Thanks, Probie, but I can think of more exciting things to do."

"Me, too," Tim yawned...again.

"I am glad you are all right, McGee," Ziva said.

"Me, too."

"Sleep tight, Probie."

"Will do." Tim let his eyes drift closed as he heard them leave...then, he pried them open again when he realized that Gibbs was still there. "Boss?" he yawned...again. "What is it?"

"What happened at Norfolk, McGee?"

Tim furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"Probably about four years ago? People making you call them _sir_?"

Tim swallowed. "How...how did you know about that?"

"I don't."

"Then...what–?"

"You mentioned a little bit, McGee."

"When?" Tim asked. "Oh..."

"Yeah."

"It's nothing, Boss. It's not a big deal."

"It was apparently a big enough deal for you to remember it...for two days while we were trapped in that basement."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Tim looked down at the blanket. He had thought he'd managed to forget all that. It hadn't been pleasant, but he had lived through it. Apparently, it was still catalogued away in his head.

"So?"

"It doesn't matter, Boss."

"Tell me anyway."

"They were drunk. They would never have done it, sober," Tim heard the anger coloring his voice and he tried to hide that feeling. He knew Gibbs had noticed it.

"That still doesn't tell me what happened."

Tim sighed, no longer very tired. "It was just a little while after I first met you all. It was a group of sailors. They were fresh off the boat, I think. They'd had too good a time and were looking for some more fun. I stayed late that day and was just leaving." Tim laughed a little and shook his head. "I never thought I'd be talking about it again."

"Obviously."

"They saw me and they knew I was an easy mark. There were five or six of them, and one of me." Tim looked up at Gibbs. "I thought I'd outgrown all this crap."

"_You_ may have, McGee, but that doesn't mean everyone else has."

"Obviously. So...they smacked me around a little, forced me into a boat..._not_ a ship," he clarified with an ironic smile, "and they...Boss, there's nothing to be done about this, you know. I can't tell you who they were. I really didn't see their faces and I don't know their names. I couldn't even tell you which ship they were on."

"Your point?"

Tim rolled his eyes and sighed again. "They took me out into the middle of the harbor, stole my clothes and forced me out of the boat, okay? I had to swim back to shore...and because I didn't have any clothes on...except my boxers. One of them was sober enough to be that considerate. I hit the breakers first. Got cut up a little on the rocks. I had to run half naked back to my office. Luckily, it was late enough that no one was really around to see me. I was lucky enough to get back to my apartment. I went to the emergency room and got stitched up. Went home and never said a word about it...except to my dad. He told me to tell someone."

"Why didn't you?"

"Who was I going to tell, Boss?"

"Me?"

"Right." Tim laughed outright. "I wanted to _work_ with you, Boss. I didn't think that reporting a hazing incident would make me look all that impressive."

"You never told _anyone_ at Norfolk?"

"No."

"McGee, that's pretty stupid."

"Maybe. I didn't want to make waves, Boss. I was new. I wanted a better job than I had. I know how advancement works. I may be gullible, but I'm not an idiot. Making trouble is the way to be either fired or holed up in a little crowded office for my entire life."

Gibbs looked at Tim. He was annoyed, but not traumatized. He had wanted to be sure of that.

"So this doesn't bother you anymore?"

"Bother me? Of course, it does. I'm an NCIS agent, not a scrawny high school student. I identified myself, but all they saw was the nerd. I'm okay with being a geek, Boss. I'm not okay with other people walking all over me. ...but there's nothing I can do about that now. I don't remember them. I took no photos, no evidence. I told the people in the ER that I'd fallen or tripped or something equally unbelievable. It's over, Boss."

"Okay, McGee."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Gibbs stood up to leave. He stopped at the door. "By the way, you're not a wuss, McGee. You're not stupid. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise...not even yourself." Then, he walked out.

"Thanks...Boss." Tim leaned back again and started to smile. Then, he rolled over and went to sleep.

FINIS!


End file.
